


Bounty at the Table

by Zoeleo



Series: Rara Avis [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Gen, Holidays, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoeleo/pseuds/Zoeleo
Summary: Alfred prepares for Jason's first Thanksgiving at Wayne Manor. He is thankful for all his boys.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oldmythologies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmythologies/gifts).



> Happy Thanksgiving everyone! 
> 
> Big thank-you to Old Mythologies, my awesome beta. Here's one I didn't make you edit, so there's probably a lot of typos but...enjoy everyone! Family fluff abounds.
> 
> And shit! I keep forgetting to post "Alfred's Pot Roast Recipe":
> 
> 5-6 lbs Boneless pork loin  
> 1 Bottle Samuel Smith's Organic Hard Cider  
> 2 Large sweet onions  
> 3 Cripps Pink apples  
> 4 Sweet potatoes  
> 5 Cloves garlic  
> 1 Tbsp. Minced fresh ginger
> 
> Season pork with salt, pepper, chili pepper, cinnamon, & nutmeg. Sear on high heat in butter & olive oil, 3 minutes each side. Remove from pot, reduce heat to low. Line bottom of pot with rough chopped onions, return roast. Add rough chopped apples and sweet potatoes. Add minced garlic and ginger. Pour full bottle of cider over all. Cover and simmer 1 HR for every lb of pork. Feeds 10-12 (or 8 hungry vigilantes).

He’s worked hard to prepare all of their favorites. _Janija_ and _galuški_ for Dick. The classic spread of turkey, stuffing, rolls, and mashed potatoes with gravy and pumpkin pie for Bruce. Macaroni and cheese for Jason. And of course pork roast and brussel sprouts for himself. Done right of course, oven roasted with cranberries and drizzled in honey not boiled into submission.

This will be Jason’s first Thanksgiving with them. Usually the boy would be standing on a step stool at his side, head bent over the stove as he watched Alfred whisk things together. Alfred wasn’t sure if the boy had a genuine interest cooking, or single-minded obsession with food due to its frightful lack in his young life. He was more than happy to indulge the boy whatever the reason, as he followed the butler from fridge to counter and back peppering him with questions. He had gotten used to narrating recipes for Jason while he cooked and letting the boy taste-test along the way.

Without him the kitchen is abnormally quiet. Dick and Bruce had miraculously forged a truce to take the boy to the downtown parade. He smiles down at the screen of the prototype phone WE was engineering in partnership with Drake Industries. You could take and send pictures on it. Like a camera, but instantaneous. A miracle of the modern age. Dick is using it to send him pictures of Jason perched on Bruce’s shoulders so he can see over the heads of the crowd lining the streets. The sight makes Alfred’s eyes burn in a way he can’t blame on the onions since they were diced and added to the jinaji and stuffing hours ago. There were difficulties with Jason they’d never had Dick. Physical touch, being one of them. While Dick demanded touch as a child; holding hands, hugs, kisses on the cheek…Jason shied away from even the most casual hand on the shoulder. Seeing the boy allowing Bruce to hold him so closely fills him with hope.

A few minutes later a picture of Dick, obviously taken by himself from the angle, wearing reindeer antlers follows. Alfred snorts. Thanksgiving isn’t yet over and Dick is ready for Christmas. Dick has always been one of those fanatics though. Many years ago he had confessed it was something to do with all the lights. They reminded him of the circus and thus of home and family. Alfred didn’t have the heart to stop him begging to hang lights and tinsel about as soon as they cleared the turkey the turkey from the table. It had in fact become somewhat of a Wayne family tradition to do so.

He’s just come to bring the last serving platter to the table when he hears the garage door slam open. For a second he’s afraid its Dick come home early after having a row with Bruce but then there’s a boisterous chorale of laughter and Dick bursts into the kitchen with Jason atop his shoulders this time while Jason wears the antlers – and he’s reassured the door was merely a victim of their joyful exuberance. Bruce is several steps behind carrying the empty thermoses of hot chocolate Alfred had sent them off with. Alfred relieves him of the thermoses and watches in amusement as Bruce brushes confetti from his coat. Dick tries to kick off his shoes and strip off his many layers without divesting Jason from his coveted position. When Dick pulls off Jason’s boots and starts tickling his feet, Jason finally kicks at him and commands him to set him down loudly reminding everyone he is not a baby. It can be difficult sometimes though not to treat him younger than his age, Jason is just so small. He had scarce believed it when Bruce’s research confirmed the boy was twelve. It’s a sentiment shared by Dick if the way he ruffles Jason’s hair is anything to go by. Jason snaps at Dick’s hand in retaliation and Alfred is not naïve enough to believe its in jest. Jason’s temperament could politely be described as mercurial, but in truth he was easily triggered into lashing out physically and they had yet to understand all the whys and hows. Until they did, Alfred had found the best tactic to avoid a full-out tantrum was diversion.

He clears his throat.

“Excuse me young masters, but if you would please refrain from any further roughhousing, dinner is ready and waiting. Go wash your hands else I shall wrap it all up and take it down to half-way house on Fisher Street and you will be left to make sandwiches for yourselves.”

Dick rolls his eyes but disappears down the hall to the washroom as expected. Jason on the other hand pauses, his expression troubled before finally turning to go as well, and Alfred is left wondering what has the younger boy so rattled. The hiss of the faucet interrupts his thoughts as Bruce washes his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Did you all enjoy yourselves?” he asks, handing Bruce a dishtowel to dry off with.

Bruce flashes him a grin in a rare display of genuine emotion, “Yes, we did. Jason said it was the first time he’d been able to see the bands and the floats go by.”

There’s a lot for Alfred to read into that sentence. He and Bruce have been together for so long now that communicating between the lines is second nature now. If it was the first time Jason had seen the bands and floats at the parade it insinuates it was not Jason’s first time at parade. Small as he is, Jason could have easily slipped through the crowds to stand at the front of the blockades. Its likely Jason’s previous visits to the parade, his eyes were more concerned with what was at eye-level; pockets. Alfred hums and Bruce continues.

“He got a real kick out of it. We ran into the Barbara and Jim while we were there. Oh, and there was a new balloon this year,” Bruce adds, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh? Of?”

“Batman, if you would believe it,” he says wryly.

Alfred gasps in mock surprise, “Tell me Master Bruce, does being memorialized in polyurethane and helium make the years of blood and sweat given worth it all?”

“Alfred,” Bruce groans then chuckles, “Would you think less of me if I said it did?”

“I’m not sure what it would take for me to think less of you, but I’ve yet to discover anything so far.”

Bruce places a hand on his shoulder, “Happy Thanksgiving Alfred. I’m truly thankful for all you do. I’m sorry you got stuck here on your own while we went out.”

Alfred brushes him off and they walk into the dining room together, “Psh. I was happy to do it. I could not be more thankful to have such a wonderful family to do this for.”

He says it casually, but he means every word. Bruce, Dick, and now Jason—they are his family. He would gladly give his life for any one of his boys, the opportunity to watch and help them as they grow…is a gift he never deserved. Bruce seats himself at the head of the table and Alfred is about to sit when Dick and Jason jog in.

Dick immediately slides into his chair and reaches for a dumpling, “Holy cow, Alf! You’ve really outdone yourself this looks amazing!”

Jason freezes where he is, feet locked to the floor in the doorway. He makes a choking noise then turns tail and disappears. Bruce and Dick both rise back up in alarm. The three of them exchange confused glances and there’s a silent debate over which of them should go after him.

Alfred remembers the odd look in Jason’s eyes from earlier and volunteers, “I think it would be best if I were the one to talk to him this time.”

He grabs a couple rolls from a basket on the table and wraps them in a napkin which he stuffs in his coat pocket before he exits. Alfred’s not sure he will be able to find the boy if Jason is determined to disappear. The boy is quite good at it. In fact, there have been several times where Alfred would be tempted to say he had quit the grounds altogether if not for the fact he hadn’t tripped a single silent alarm on the property’s perimeter. He does have a few favorite spots the butler is privy to. Alfred walks cautiously towards the laundry room letting his footfalls ring out obviously. He has found Jason curled up under the folding counter between the washer and dryer more than once. Alfred wonders if he used to live above or near a Laundromat and finds the sound of the machines soothing, or if he just likes to curl up against their residual warmth. There’s a small curtain that hangs from the folding counter. He pushes it to the side.

Sure enough, Jason is there, tucked into the corner with his knees pulled up. His head is buried in his arms and he’s making quiet little noises. Alfred sits down on the floor next to him to be on the same level. No one wants to be loomed over in a moment of vulnerability.

“Master Jason, are you quite alright? You’ve left Masters Bruce and Dick very concerned. You know, when I said I would box up dinner if you didn’t wash your hands it was in jest. We will never take food away from you in punishment here.”

It was something Alfred had had to explain multiple times in Jason’s first month with them. He thought it had finally sunk in, otherwise he would have never made the comment to begin with, but now he wasn’t so sure. He had even explicitly made it clear there would still be sandwich makings available to them in lieu as a sort of precaution against this reaction. He offers one of the rolls in a gesture of good faith. Jason ignores the offering. He mumbles something that gets lost in the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t speak that language.”

Jason rolls his head so his mouth is free of fabric. His eyes are red and puffy.

“That’s not it. I know, I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m sorry I’m being stupid. Stupid, stupid!”

“Stupid? You are a great many things Master Jason, but stupid is not one of them. In fact you are rather more clever than most of the people I know. So since that can’t be it, what is all this about?”

“It’s…You’re gonna think it’s st—

“I assure you, I could never think anything you have to say is stupid.”

Jason’s face screws up, his lip clenched tightly between his teeth. Slowly he releases it to exclaim, “I just…there’s so much of it!”

“Of what, Master Jason?” Alfred wheedles.

“Food,” Jason explains, “I’ve never…I’ve never seen so mu—why did you make so much? We can’t possibly eat it all!”

“Well, although we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving across the pond, I think I’ve been here long enough to demystify the holiday. Today it is meant to be a time where we celebrate all that we are thankful for, but in the past it was a celebration of the final harvest before winter descended. In that spirit the Thanksgiving meal is meant to be abundant, it is meant to be a table overflowing and shared with loved ones. I for one, am thankful to be able to share it with you this year. Does that not make you happy?”

“I am! Really, I don’t know why I’m crying. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I just…I walked in and there was so much and it made me happy. But then all I could think about was everyone who doesn’t get to come home to this. Everyone who doesn’t get to eat today and…It’s not fair. I don’t deserve this Alfie. I didn’t do anything to deserve this,” Jason breaks down in a fresh wave of sobs.

Alfred sighs and shifts. The hard floor is not easy on his old knees.

“Master Jason, I want you to listen very carefully to me. Life isn’t fair. It’s true, you didn’t do anything to deserve being here to eat with us today. But neither did Master Bruce. He was born wealthy, its not a position he earned on merit. What you’re feeling right now, this guilt at having what other’s do not is called survivor’s guilt. Make no doubt about it, you are a survivor. You have weathered things no child should have to and I am so proud of you for that. I am even more proud though, of the compassion you have towards those with less than you. That is the mark of a man with character. I would never want you to let that compassion fade but to let it prompt you into taking action. Now, what action do you want to take?”

Jason’s eyes are wide in a mix of awe and surprise. He wipes at his face with his sleeve and sniffs a couple times before it hardens with determination.

“I know you mentioned the halfway house on Fisher but…they have a Thanksgiving dinner there already and there’s, um. There’s an alley on the corner of Park and 15th where a lot of kid’s hang out. I used to stay there sometimes and they don’t have anyone bringing them something to eat just cuz it’s a holiday. Can we…I want to take them some of our dinner, what we don’t eat if that’s okay?”

For all Bruce does running around to prevent the spread of evil, Alfred will never cease to be amazed at the good that finds a way to grow even in the bleakest places.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea for a new Wayne family tradition,” Alfred stands, and extends his hand. “Now come on, lets go eat and inform the others of the change in schedule.”

Jason studies the hand before making a final judgment and curling his fingers around the butler’s palm. Alfred hauls him to his feet and rewards him with a smile. Jason beams back up at him, looking more confident with every step back towards Bruce and Dick and the feast waiting for them.

Yes, Alfred was thankful for every one of his boys.


End file.
